Thunderstorms on Gunsmoke
by meganichan04
Summary: The planet Gunsmoke experiences its first thunderstorm, and Wolfwood isn't having a good time of it thanks to a certain gunman...
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:** Welcome once again, everyone, to another of my crazy fan fics. I think I should probably state at some point that, although I do like Trigun very much, none of these fics would have come to be had my pet senior Jay-chan not whined and whimpered most pitifully for them. (Bless her, she sometimes has the attention span of a hamster. Getting her to focus on a fic until it's over and ask for another chapter is a challenge I welcome.) Thanks, Jay-sweetie, for loaning me your short attention span.

**Disclaimer:** Trigun and everything remotely related to that title belongs to Yasuhiro Nightow-san, who I sincerely hope never reads this. (sweat)

**o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o**

To all involved, it seemed a miracle. After more than a century of trying, the plants had succeeded. It was raining on Gunsmoke.

The scent of it drifted on a cool breeze, accompanied by the laughter of children and the joyous shouts of their elders. Truly it was a time of celebration, despite the fact that the sudden surge of water had caused countless flash floods and mudslides across the formerly desert planet.

As evening came on, four friends and a little black cat sat on the front porch of a tidy little hotel in Inepril City, each watching the rain fall and coping with the blessed event in their own "special" way.

"It's the most beautiful thing I've ever seen!" Millie Thompson blubbered into her lace hankie. "Isn't it wonderful, senpai?"

"It sure is, Millie." Meryl Strife smiled as she gazed out at what had become a genuine downpour, for once not even annoyed by her partner's constant weeping. "Can you imagine what effect this is going to have on the planet?"

"Yeah!" Vash the Stampede smiled his kawaii smile from the bottom step of the porch. "Now the kids can go out and play whenever they want to and not have to worry about getting all hot and thirsty and sun burnt!"

Meryl sweat-dropped. "Besides that, you dunce. I mean the small fact that Gunsmoke could actually become a second Earth! Doesn't that mean anything to your pea-sized brain?" Vash cowered, assuming she was going to take a swing at him, but she merely returned to watching the rain. "Hmm... I wonder how the plants managed it..."

"By the will of God, of course." Nicholas D. Wolfwood lazily reclined in a flimsy wooden chair smoking a cigarette, skillfully balancing the chair on two legs by bracing his feet against the porch railing.

"You shouldn't do that, Mr. Priest," Millie sniffled around her hankie. "You could fall and hurt yourself."

"No, I won't." As if on cue the chair toppled over, sending the startled priest sprawling square on top of Vash's pet cat. Kuroneko-sama hissed and spit ferociously as he tried to escape from under Wolfwood's weight.

"Wolfwood, get off him!" Vash leapt into action, pulling the cat out from under his friend. This proved somewhat difficult, as said cat was gouging holes in both Wolfwood and the floorboards in his attempts to get loose.

"Are you alright, Mr. Priest?" Millie asked.

Wolfwood got to his feet somewhat stiffly and examined the tatters of what had until recently been the front of his jacket and the only clean white shirt he owned. His chest was bloody. "Oh, sure. I'm fine."

"Aw, did he hurt you?" Vash asked sympathetically. Nicholas, surprised that Vash cared, turned to answer but discovered to his annoyance that he was not the one being questioned. Vash was on his knees facing away from the peeved priest, arms open wide. "Oh, poor kitty! Come here, kitty kitty, let Vash see."

Wolfwood glared at the cat as it sauntered smugly past him and leapt into Vash's arms. Purring louder than the drumming rain, Kuroneko snuggled up to the gunman and rubbed its head under his chin. Meryl rolled her eyes. Millie smiled at the kawaii-ness. Wolfwood nearly gagged on his cigarette.

"Nick, you've got to be careful with him," Vash admonished the muttering priest while stroking the smug cat. "He's only a little kitty. You might really hurt him!"

"Oh, of course. How thoughtless of me."

"Now you're just being sarcastic."

"Vash, why don't you tell _it_ to be careful with _me_?" Wolfwood yelled, pointing an accusing finger at the animal in question. "It has nine lives, but I've only got one, you know? I swear, that animal has it in for me! It bites and scratches me on a regular basis!"

Vash face-vaulted. "Nick, that's just silly. He's a cat! He doesn't know what he's doing. You must just annoy him, or something. Maybe he doesn't like your aftershave? I'm sure it's nothing personal."

Wolfwood was about to loudly argue the point when a huge flash of light lit the evening sky. Vash's blonde hair spiked up even farther (if that's at all possible) as he shot up the steps and darted behind the rocking chair that Millie was occupying. "What was that?"

"I think it's lightning, Mr. Vash!" Millie squealed happily, lowering her hankie. "My middle big brother used to tell me about storms all the time! It's more beautiful than I could have imagined!"

"What's the matter, Tongari?" Wolfwood chuckled, lighting another cigarette. "Scared of a little light?"

"Ha-hahahaha, no way!" Vash laughed in his annoying, high-pitched way as he rubbed the back of his head in embarrassment, slowly easing out from behind the chair. Meryl sniggered, not believing a word. "Don't laugh! I wasn't scared! It just startled me, is all!"

A split second later, a deafening boom rattled the hotel's rickety windowpanes.

"Aaaaaaaaaaahhh!" Abandoning his pride, Vash bolted into the hotel, screaming in French.

Millie smiled, apparently over her crying fit. "Should I go remind him that thunder can't hurt you, senpai?"

"That's okay, Millie." Meryl sighed as she got to her feet and gave a hard stretch. "I think we should all go inside, anyway. It looks like we might have a real storm brewing out there! Isn't this exciting?"

As the two insurance girls entered the hotel, chattering happily together, Wolfwood held back. He stared at the small black cat lying peacefully on the porch rail. With a well placed kick, he turned and followed the girls, satisfied that justice had been served.

The cat sat in a puddle of muddy water, raindrops dripping off its whiskers, staring at the door the priest had just closed. Wolfwood had caused Kuroneko-sama an indignity. A demonic smile lit the cat's furry face. There was gonna be hell to pay.

**O.O.O.O.O**

Two hours later, the storm hit full force. Rain poured down, lightning flashed continuously, and thunder boomed. Vash huddled in the middle of his tiny hotel bed, blankets pulled over his head. He had been a nervous wreck since Wolfwood had pulled him out from under the service desk in the lobby shaking with fear earlier that evening, and he was still terrified.

"I'll be fine," he whispered to himself, pulling the blankets closer around his shoulders. "I'm the fearless outlaw, Vash the Stampede, the Humanoid Typhoon! I'll be fine, I'll be fine, I'll be fine..."

There was a huge crash of thunder from directly above the hotel that made the entire tiny building shake. Vash dove out of bed and bolted down the hall. "I'm not fine, I'm not fine!" Reaching Wolfwood's door, he began to pound on it with both fists. "Wolfwooood!"

Said priest, jolted from his peaceful slumbers, leapt out of bed and grabbed his Cross Punisher, thinking that Vash needed help beating down some enemy or other that had broken into the hotel. What he found when he wrenched open the door, however, was the very bedraggled Stampede clutching a pillow and wearing a very sheepish smile.

"Wolfwood, can I sleep with you tonight?"

Wolfwood face-vaulted. "No."

"Aw, come on, Nick, please?"

"No. Go back to bed."

"But Nick..." Vash whined pitifully. "My room is scary!"

"Broom-head, our rooms are exactly the same." At Vash's forlorn look, Wolfwood sighed and ran a hand over his tired face. "Come on, Tongari. I'll walk you back to your own room and show you there's nothing to be afraid of."

"Well... okay..." Vash followed Wolfwood back down the hall, if a bit reluctantly, to the room he had so hastily fled mere moments before.

Nicholas flipped on the light. "See? Just a plain, old, ordinary, overly expensive cracker-box hotel room like we've been checking into almost every night for the past few months. Nothing to be scared of, huh? At least not until we get the bill tomorrow! Goodnight." Laughing at his own joke, Wolfwood tried to pull the door closed behind him. It didn't budge, due to the gunman holding onto the knob.

"Are you totally sure I can't—"

"Yes I'm sure! Goodnight, Vash!" Shutting the door on the outlaw and his pillow, Wolfwood headed for his room, cursing childish blonde gunman with irrational nighttime fears. He was halfway there when another clap of thunder made him jump and clutch reflexively at the Cross Punisher he'd brought along out of habit . "Whew! That was a big one. I guess these storms really do take some getting used—HOLY HELL!"

The priest frantically swung Cross Punisher around himself, trying to hit the person that had glomped him from behind. He missed completely and took a large chunk of plaster out of the hallway wall.

"Please, please, please, Nick, let me stay in your room!" Vash wailed, clinging to the priest's legs.

"No!" Wolfwood snarled, vainly trying to piece the plaster back into the wall. "I told you before, there's nothing scary about your room!"

"It's not the room, Nick, it's this storm! I'm not used to thunder! I keep thinking someone's shooting at me!"

"Don't be stupid, needle-noggin," Wolfwood growled, but his tone and the force behind the reprimand had softened drastically. He once more escorted Vash back to his room. "Look, just pretend that the noise is the Nebraska family walking around town."

Vash sniffled, considering the idea. "Are they doing anything illegal or potentially dangerous to the citizens?"

"No. They just got out of Sunday service at church and now they're buying ice cream and window shopping and having a great ol' time. Goodnight."

Wolfwood closed the door and Vash was once more left to himself. Glancing around once or twice to be sure everything was secure, he crawled back into bed and pulled the covers up to his chin. "Okay, Vash, you can do this. Just pretend it's the Nebraska family..."

And indeed, after a few minutes the steady sound of the rain lulled Vash into a light doze. That is, until the loudest thunderclap of the night exploded directly over the hotel, seeming louder than every gun ever shot at Vash combined. The gunman was out of bed in record time, scratching and scrabbling at the priest's door like a puppy abandoned in the storm. "Wolfwooooooood!"

"Tongari, this is getting really old!" Nicholas yelled, appearing at the door. "What happened to you pretending it was the Nebraska family?"

"I dreamed that the big hideous mother sat on me!"

Wolfwood closed his eyes and began to beat his forehead against the doorframe. "Look, Vash, we paid good money for that room and you are going to sleep in it!" Placing his hands on Vash's back, he pushed the whimpering gunman back down the hallway. "Now for the final time, you stay in here! One more peep from you tonight and I'm calling Meryl and letting her deal with you!" Vash gulped, suitably afraid of the wrath of the short insurance girl woken from a sound sleep in the middle of the night.

Closing the door firmly, Wolfwood ran for his room, checking behind him every few steps to be sure he wasn't bing followed. Darting inside, he locked the door behind him. That ought to keep the needle-noggin out. Satisfied, the tired priest got back into bed and conked off once more.

**O.O.O.O.O**

Vash waited a good three minutes before cautiously creeping back down the hall.

Tiptoeing to Wolfwood's door, he gently tried to turn the handle. It wouldn't budge. _Hmm, locked out,_ Vash thought, frowning. Never one to be discouraged, he reached up to the top of the door, searching for the spare key he felt sure would be there. The priest was notorious for losing his key and getting locked out of his own room, so he had taken to sticking a spare over the door.

Success. Slipping quietly inside, Vash snuck over to the bed. Careful not to disturb the snoozing priest, he made himself at home. This time, when thunder rolled across the vast, lonely desert, he didn't bat an eye, secure in the knowledge that Wolfwood (and the Cross Punisher propped against the bedside table) was right beside him.

**O.O.O.O.O**

Wolfwood tossed restlessly in his sleep. In his dreams, a giant black cat in silken robes and a golden crown told him that he must pay. Out of nowhere, twenty six black cat ninjas appeared with katanas drawn. Wolfwood turned and ran, the black cat ninjas hot on his heels, across a black landscape devoid of anything but pink ears, bright green eyes, and sharp white teeth. The black cat ninjas were gaining. Wolfwood tried to run faster but it made no difference. He couldn't run much longer. Suddenly, he was falling. Falling through darkness with little black cats all around him.

Then, one of his flailing arms hit something warm and solid. _That_ wasn't supposed to be there, was it? Forgetting all about the black cats, Wolfwood poked the warm object curiously. It moved. Wolfwood opened his eyes.

"Gaaaaaaahh!"

Vash smiled his kawaii smile not two inches from Wolfwood's face. "Hi, Nick."

"No! No, no, no, no, _no_!"

Vash suddenly found himself staring at the floor and the backs of Wolfwood's legs as the priest threw him over his shoulder and stormed out of the room. "Please, Nicky, no!" he wailed. "I don't wanna gooooo! Let me stay with yooooou!"

"What about NO don't you understand, needle-noggin? Is that broom-head of yours unable to handle the concept? Come Hell or high water, you're going to sleep in your own bed!"

"No! Put me down!"

"I swear to God, you are so childish!"

"I am not!" Vash began to kick and beat his fists against the priest's back, but Wolfwood didn't pause in his mission to deliver Vash back to his end of the hallway. Suddenly, the blonde got an idea. The band of Wolfwood's boxers was just visible over the waist of his sweat pants. Vash seized the band and gave it a hard yank upwards.

With a shriek of indignant, disbelieving rage, Wolfwood dropped Vash and grabbed at his pants. Upon hitting the ground, Vash scrambled in the direction of the priest's room. Nicholas tackled him before he'd gone two yards, sending them both slamming into the wall.

"Oww!"

"Stay out of there, dammit!"

"Nick, you're so mean to me!"

"Mean? I'll show you mean, you insane, broom-headed excuse for an outlaw!" As Wolfwood drew back for a swing, an enormous crash of thunder made the priest instinctively duck and cover. In seconds Vash, spared from punishment, was clinging to him and sniveling pitifully.

"See, Nick? It's scary! Are you sure you don't want some company...?"

"I was not scared!" Nicholas denied. "It was just...a shock, that's all. And I do not want company! Get back to your room!"

"No!"

Thus began a series of girly slaps, kicks, bites, and hair pulling. As he was nearly sitting on Vash Wolfwood had the upper hand in the slapping department, but Vash was better able to kick from his lower position, so in all honesty they were pretty evenly matched.

"Why in God's name do you have to be so stubborn?"

"Why do you have to be so mean?"

"I just want to sleep _alone_ in my own bed! I suppose that's a crime nowadays?"

"Well _I_ just want the reassurance of being close to a friend! I guess that's illegal too, huh?"

"Don't you turn me into the bad guy here, Tongari! It's two in the freakin' morning, I've gotten no sleep whatsoever, and _you_ won't leave me the Hell alone because you're scared of some noise!"

The gunman's puppy eyes began to fill with tears. Wolfwood remained unmoved, so Vash decided it was time to try the advanced technique. "Well, _you_...you...you _hate_ me!" he wailed, beginning to cry in earnest.

"What? Vash, no, I don't hate you, it's just that—"

"You do hate me! You hate me and Meryl hates me and I'm going to go sleep with Millie!"

Wolfwood's jaw dropped. "No you are not!"

"Yes I am, and you can't stop me!" Vash whined/pouted. Kicking off the stunned priest and picking himself up off the floor, he headed for his room to fetch his pillow, wincing at another flash of lightning through the patched curtains.

"Uh, Vash, wait! I changed my mind! You can stay with me!"

"No." Vash didn't even pause. "You don't like me."

"Yes I do!"

"No you don't."

"I do! I like you a lot!"

The blonde was suddenly standing in front of the priest, fluttering his eyelashes. "Really?"

Wolfwood sweat-dropped. "Uh, sure. In a totally normal way, you understand."

"Right." As Vash ran for his pillow, Wolfwood ran a hand over his face, wondering what he had just gotten himself into. He hoped Millie would appreciate his extreme sacrifice on her behalf.

**O.O.O.O.O**

"Thanks again, Nick." Vash happily fluffed his pillow and plopped backwards onto it.

"Yeah, yeah," Wolfwood grumbled, not bothering to look at the sickeningly cheerful gunman. "Can I turn the light out yet?"

"Sure, go ahead."

Turning off the lamp, Wolfwood lay down and pulled the blankets up to his ears. "Alright, Tongari, this is the end of the line. Mess up again and I swear by all that is holy I will wail on you with Cross Punisher until you fall to the floor unconscious, and then I will drag your senseless body out into the street and leave you there to sleep. Got it?"

Vash gulped. "Got it. Goodnight, Nicky."

"And don't call me Nicky!"

"Right. G'night, Wolfwood." Vash closed his eyes and let his head fall onto the pillow. In moments he was asleep, the stress of the stormy evening suddenly catching up to him with a vengeance.

After a few minutes of Vash being silent, Wolfwood cautiously rolled over an took a peek. "Damn, he was serious. Huh. He must've been totally exhausted... Maybe I should have just let him stay the first time... Oh, well. G'night, Vash." With a fond pat to his friend's spiky hair, the priest settled down to sleep. The whole ordeal wasn't really that bad at all. Vash was still as a stone, his breathing deep and even. If Wolfwood hadn't known he was there, the gunman would have been almost unnoticeable. Surprised and pleased, Nicholas drifted off at last.

**O.O.O.O.O**

"Knives, nooooo!"

Wolfwood came awake like a grenade had been detonated as Vash's fist landed forcefully on the bridge of his nose.

"The last donut is mine...! You... you've already eaten five... It's mine! Put it down! Don't you eat it, Knives! I'll... I'll tell Rem!"

Wolfwood groaned, collapsing back against the pillows. He should have known it was too good to be true. He gingerly felt his nose, hoping it wasn't bleeding or worse, broken. Vash tossed and turned fitfully, muttering incoherent threats and pleas at his dream twin. Finally the blonde curled up on his side away from Wolfwood, snuggled into the blankets, and lay still. At length, even the muttering stopped and the room was silent once more.

"Thank you, God," the priest sighed. He desperately hoped that Vash would have no more violent dreams that night. Glancing at the clock, Wolfwood cursed under his breath. It was a quarter to three! Glaring down at the gently sleeping Stampede, Nicholas turned his back on him and closed his eyes.

KA-BOOM!

The eyes immediately opened again. Damn this storm to the fiery pits of hell! Was it ordained in heaven that he was to get no rest that night, or what? Vash whimpered in his sleep and rolled over, wrapping his arms around Wolfwood's waist in reaction to the loud thunder. Well, that answered the priest's question.

"Uh, no, Vash, that's just a _little_ too close, there." With some difficulty, Wolfwood managed to pry the plant off, giving him a hard shove towards his side of the bed. In seconds, though, Vash was back, clutching at Wolfwood's arm and whimpering as another burst of thunder rumbled over the building. "Oh, for cryin' out loud, Tongari!"

Nicholas lay there, foul-tempered and exasperated, Vash unwittingly cuddling his arm. He wished Millie knew what he was going through so she could have a peaceful, uninterrupted night's sleep. She would undoubtedly be thankful and praise his generosity, his chivalry, his gallantry. Thinking of Millie and her never-ending gratitude, Wolfwood unconsciously began to relax. He was on the verge of sleep when yet more thunder caused Vash to throw an arm over his chest and neck, nearly strangling him in the process.

"Dammit, you clingy blonde fungus, get off me!" Nicholas squirmed and kicked, trying to dislodge the so-called fungus, but Vash held on tightly, seeming determined to hang onto his warm, secure, improvised teddy bear.

_Dear God,_ Nicholas thought as he tried to wriggle free, _please think nothing of this. Though it might appear horribly wrong and an unforgivable sin in Thine eyes, I assure Thee that nothing is meant by this encounter. Please forgive Vash, for he knows not what he does. And please help me to remember Thy merciful will and not kill the fungus in his sleep. Otherwise, please bring forth unto me a holy hand grenade, so that I might blow the fungus to tiny bits, in Thy mercy. Amen._

Shit. He knew watching Monty Python was a bad idea.

**O.O.O.O.O**

Twenty minutes later, Wolfwood finally felt his eyelids growing heavy. Vash had finally released him, allowing the priest to find a comfortable position in which to sleep. Shortly thereafter, the ceiling had begun to leak, forcing Wolfwood to get out of bed and put a cup underneath it. Four leaks and six cups later (in his sleep-deprived daze he had broken two), he finally thought he stood a decent chance of getting to sleep.

Wolfwood allowed his eyes to close. He still had a good four hours to sleep, if he was lucky. Meryl was a real stickler when it came to getting up and checking out on time, but he was determined not to take any of her crap the next morning. Not even if Millie begged. Okay, so maybe if Millie begged. Sighing quietly at the trials and tribulations of life, the priest at last dozed off.

A few minutes later, the door drifted open with a soft creak. Wolfwood heard the minute noise and felt the slight draft of cool air from the hallway. He opened his eyes cautiously. There in the doorway, illuminated by a sudden flash of lightning, sat Vash's cat.

_Oh, great, just what I need. _As the room went dark once again, Nicholas reached for a shoe to throw at the intruding hairball and waited for the next flash of lightning. When it came a few seconds later, Wolfwood blinked in surprise. The door was closed. The cat was gone.

_Huh. That's weird. I guess it left on its own._ Dropping the shoe, the exhausted priest let his head fall forward into the pillow. His tired eyes moved of their own accord to do a last, lazy scan of the room. Lightning flashed. There, on the dresser, not ten feet away, sat the cat.

Wolfwood nearly had a heart attack. The cat looked positively demonic. Its teeth were bared in a hideous smile that stretched nearly from eye to eye, showing every pointed fang. The eyes themselves were tiny green slits under fiendishly pointed ears that bore a great and disturbing resemblance to horns. Freaky.

As the flash disappeared and the room was reduced to darkness, Nicholas shrank back, once more clutching the shoe. What was wrong with this animal? Did Vash forget to feed it that night or something? It looked fully capable of devouring a side of beef. Or a priest.

Shaking off that very disturbing thought, Wolfwood raised the shoe. He fully intended to send the cat packing with the next flash of lightning. When it came again, however, he received a nasty shock. The cat was no longer on the dresser. It had moved to the floor about eight feet from the bed, but it was in exactly the same position, not a whisker different from before. And, as Wolfwood watched, it slowly lifted a paw, one claw extended, and pointed straight at Wolfwood, smiling evilly.

Nicholas gulped, suddenly very thankful for Vash's warm, slumbering form at his back. This could get ugly. "What do you want?" he asked the cat, voice as calm as he could manage.

The cat raised its paw and drew the extended claw slowly and deliberately across its neck.

"You mean you want to kill me?"

The cat nodded.

Nicholas felt faint. _Jesus Christ, why are all the demons drawn to me?! First the little blonde brat, now a cat that's Satan incarnate! What am I gonna DO?! Wait a second… I'm a __priest__! I can handle a demon cat any day! _Wolfwood slowly reached over into the bedside table drawer and pulled out a Bible. When he looked back again, however, the cat had vanished.

"Oh shit."

Then, from the darkness under the bed, there came a soft meow.

Nicholas completely lost his cool. As a child he had always been terrified of monsters under his bed. Now that long-buried fear rose up and made him do something he had never, ever, never ever ever NEVER thought of doing before. He turned and glomped Vash.

"Vaaash! Wake up! Your cat's a demon and it's under the bed and it wants to kill me and eat my broken body for an unholy midnight snack! DO something!"

Vash yawned, blinking slowly up at the panicked priest. "Aw, Nick, did you have a nightmare?"

Wolfwood's jaw dropped. "No! It's not a dream! Your cat wants me dead!"

Vash sat up, rubbing his eyes. "Alright, alright, Nick. I know dreams can seem very realistic, but you're awake now. And in the real world, kitties do not want to waste people."

"But I was _not_ dreaming!" Wolfwood yelled, wanting to take the gunman by the throat and throttle Vash into believing him. He wasn't some scared five-year-old, damn it!

"Okay, Nick, let's just take a look under the bed."

"Alright, fine. You do that. Just don't act like I didn't warn you when you get your face torn off!"

Disregarding his friend's ranting, Vash got out of bed and turned on the lights. Kneeling beside the bed, he slowly lifted the dust ruffle and peered underneath. "See, Nick? No cats."

"What? Let me see!" Leaping off the bed, Wolfwood crouched down next to Vash and looked. Sure enough, no cat. "But... but... but...! It was under there! I swear it was! I'm not crazy!"

"Okay, let's look around, then." Vash patiently looked in the closet, in the corners, and behind every piece of furniture in the room. There was no sign of the animal.

Wolfwood was baffled. "But... it was _here_!"

"Nick, I really think you had a bad dream. Why don't you go back to sleep? Things will make more sense in the morning."

"Yeah...more sleep... sure..." Wolfwood was still very much on edge, but he followed his friend's advice and climbed back into bed behind the blonde. Maybe he really had been asleep, and dreamed the whole thing after all. Hell, maybe this whole torturous night had been a bad dream. He hoped so. "Thanks, Tongari. Sorry for the trouble."

"No problem, Nick. Any time. If you need anything else, remember I'm right here."

"Uh, thanks. Goodnight, Vash."

"Night, Nick."

Wolfwood's last thought before sleep claimed him was that Vash would make a great daddy. Too bad Meryl didn't seem to realize that yet. He'd have to have a word with her, as a father to an ignorant daughter. Smiling, he fell asleep.

**O.O.O.O.O**

As soon as Vash fell asleep, Kuroneko attacked.

The priest's hysterical screams could be heard the hotel over as he frantically tried to pry the cat off his throat, where it was trying tenaciously to bury its fangs in his jugular. The storm chose that moment to snap out of its lull, and a fresh bout of thunder and lightning happily lent their element to the madness.

With a last wild yell Wolfwood managed to sling the cat from himself. It disappeared into a corner as Nicholas collapsed, too traumatized to scream or stand any longer, onto the bed. Amazingly, Vash slept through the whole thing.

Suddenly, the door burst open and Millie burst in, brandishing her stun gun. "Mr. Priest? I heard you shouting! Are you okay?"

Wolfwood, curled in the fetal position in an advanced state of shock, didn't answer.

"What's wrong, Mr. Priest?" Millie, sensing no immanent danger, dropped her gun and hurried over to the bed. "What happened? Why is Mr. Vash here?"

Over her shoulder, Wolfwood saw the cat slipping out the open door. He began to point and jabber hysterically, hovering on the verge of a total nervous breakdown. A loud clap of thunder further added to his unstable state, making him pull the blankets over his head and whine pitifully.

Millie was immediately sympathetic. "Oh, poor Mr. Priest! You were scared of the thunder so Mr. Vash came in to stay with you and make you feel better! That's so nice of him! I wish I had known, though, you would have been welcome to come and sleep with me. Although, senpai is snoring louder than the storm right now... Ha, ha, oh well! Sweet dreams, Mr. Priest."

Tucking the blankets in around the shell-shocked priest and fluffing his pillow in a motherly fashion, Millie gave a dainty yawn and left the room. Wolfwood stared dumbly after her, vainly reaching out both hands. Before he could get up and follow, Vash rolled over and threw an arm around the priest, preventing his escape. Nicholas struggled weakly as the door closed behind Millie. Too late. His sanctuary was gone.

Bursting into tears, he flopped dejectedly onto the pillow. Thunderstorms on Gunsmoke sucked. Poor Wolfwood. But, even his experience would seem like nap time in kindergarten compared to what Legato was dealing with that very same night...

**O.O.O.O.O**

To be continued…

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**(2****nd****) Author's note:** I also forgot to mention that I don't own Monty Python, either, just a tee with the killer rabbit on it. That rabbit's dynamite! (Insane giggles, claps coconut shells together) Anyway, I hope you enjoyed the fic. Good reviews will earn the posting of the other chapter. Hasta luego, mis amigos!


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's Note: **I am SO SORRY! What has it been, like, half a year now since I updated? I apologize! (grovels) Anyway... after what seems like a lifetime... here is the second and final chapter. Once again I apologize, and hope you like it. Oh, and a bit of a warning; Knives might be a bit out of character in this chapter, but that's okay since they're not on camera right now, right? Right. Thanks for understanding.

**Disclaimer:** All characters used here belong to Yasuhiro Nightow-sensei, and I must say that in all likelihood he has to be a quicker updater than I am.

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Legato Bluesummers stood on the front porch of the secret headquarters of the Gung-Ho Guns. He stared out at the expanse of soggy former desert surrounding the building, deep in thought. It was not, however, the thought that had plagued him countless times before. (Why on Gunsmoke did they have a front porch? They were a gang of highly dangerous and unpredictable outlaws!) Today he was feeling vaguely glad that their base was located on reasonably high ground. A veritable lake was creeping up the front yard, and, without a doubt, the basement would flood before morning if it did not stop raining.

"There goes my collection," Legato sighed moodily, chewing his bottom lip. After a brief moment of self-conflict, he turned and headed back into the house, bent on retrieving his boxes of brain-numbing manga from the cellar. Master Knives would never let him hear the end of it, but he flatly refused to let his one and only collection of anything be ruined with the water.

As the psychic hurried down the hall toward the basement stairs, he was forced to stop to allow a parade of sorts go by.

Zazie the Beast marched happily past with a spaghetti strainer on his little blonde head, banging on a pot with two salad forks. Legato's salad forks, the psychic noted with a frown. The good ones. Dominique the Cyclops skipped by behind the child, shaking an empty coffee can full of small rocks. E.G. Mine followed the only female member of the Gung-Ho Guns, hitting two wooden spoons together in time with her gravel maraca and Zazie's pan drum. And last but not least, Midvalley the Hornfreak brought up the rear, playing the only real instrument in the whole procession; his trusty and beloved saxophone, Sylvia.

Legato gave them all a funny look. Not that the Gung-Ho Guns were not a strange group to begin with, but this was just plain weird. Finally he shrugged and fell in behind Midvalley. They were heading for the basement anyway, and none of the other outlaws who inhabited the base were likely to get in the way of a band inspired by temporary rainy day madness.

Upon reaching the basement door, the psychic broke off from the band. They went their merry (and noisy) way, seeming not to notice that he had left. Not that Legato cared. He had more important things to attend to.

"Suddenly I have that sinking feeling..." he muttered, opening the door a crack. The steady drip-drop of muddy rain water leaking in at an alarming rate met his ears. With an obscenity, Legato leapt down the stairs two at a time to check the damage and stop it if he could.

Landing in nearly four inches of dirty water, he held the hem of his white coat up out of the muck and began the slow slog through the flooded room. He passed Grey the Ninelives' spare parts and Monev the Gale's Bowflex machine before he found what he sought; a stack of cardboard boxes stacked in one corner.

The bottom-most boxes were soaked through, which, in Legato's case, translated into totally ruined. "Well, damn." the psychic cursed mildly. This meant he was going to have to go into town and slaughter the owner of another comic shop in order to secure more books. That would be a minor inconvenience.

Then he saw the name that had been sloppily scribble on the side of the bottom boxes in purple marker. "Oh. This is Hoppard's old junk, not my books. That's rather better, then." Using his psychic powers, the blue-haired man hoisted the untouched, neatly duct taped boxes off the top of the ruined ones and ushered them up the stairs ahead of him. He closed the door on the mounting flood, wondering if he should bother telling anyone that their possessions in the basement were in immanent danger of being floated out to a newly created sea.

_No,_ he thought mildly, _I don't believe I shall tell them. They're all idiots. Except for Rai Dei. Rai Dei gave me the last zebra cake. Yes, I will go tell Rai Dei._ Followed by his faithful boxes of manga, Legato made his way up to the second floor to inform the Blade of the fate of his belongings in storage in the cellar.

As usual, Rai Dei's door was closed, so the psychic was forced to knock and initiate actual interaction rather than just muttering the information and walking on by. He sighed. "Rai Dei, I have something rather important to—" he began.

"What's the password?" came the muffled inquiry from behind the door.

Legato sighed again. "Rurouni Kenshin."

The door popped open to reveal the samurai. "Alright. State your business."

"Just for your information, the basement is flooding. Badly. I thought you might like to be informed, in case you had anything of value stored down there."

"Plushie Kenshin!" Rai Dei screeched, kicking the door open fully and nearly knocking Legato over in his haste. Tearing off down the hall, the samurai made it down two flights of stairs in record time. Legato could hear him splashing and cursing in the basement. Despite himself, he was curious. What could the Blade possibly have down there that was so important? He decided to wait a bit and see what would emerge.

A few minutes later found Legato sitting on one of his manga boxes as the samurai reappeared, soaking wet but triumphant, holding a much-loved Kenshin Himura plushie to his damp chest. Clearly unaware that Legato had bothered to wait around, Rai Dei began to snuggle and talk to the doll. "I'm sorry, Kenshi-kins," he crooned, rubbing his stubbly chin against the doll's face and hair. "I promise never to leave you alone down there in that nasty basement ever again, no matter what anyone says about me!"

Legato made an odd noise in the back of his throat as he tried to suppress his laughter.

Rai Dei jumped a mile, immediately trying to hide the doll behind his back. "Oh, um, Legato! I was just, er, um..." The samurai sweat-dropped. "I don't suppose you would be willing to forget that you ever saw any of this?"

Legato smirked, getting up off his box. "Consider it repayment for the zebra cake from yesterday."

Clutching the plush, the samurai dropped a grateful bow and ran for his room. Satisfied, Legato headed for his own room to unpack his collection, wondering despite himself what other, odder wonders were hidden away in their little-explored basement.

**O.O.O.O.O**

Minutes later, Legato locked his door and pulled the tape off the first box. Tossing aside wads of crinkled newspaper, he began to empty the box of a motley assortment of the most bloody, violent, and disturbing manga imaginable. One by one they were placed in a pile on the carpet.

However, before the psychic could open the second box, he heard a rather loud and upset yell from outside his window.

"Legatooo!"

Running across the room, Legato threw open the screen and looked down onto the grounds. "Yes, Master?"

"Legato, get down here! And bring chicken wire! Hurry!"

Puzzled, Legato did as he was told. When he arrived on the ground level with a roll of chicken wire from the supply closet a few minutes later, he found his master, Millions Knives, embroiled in a life-or-death battle with a herd of scavenging tomasi.

"Get away, damn you!" Knives swung a broom at one exceptionally bold beast, striking it on the nose. "You can't eat them! Legato, hurry up with that wire!"

The psychic was at a loss. "What should I do with it, Master?"

"Put it around the seedlings, man! The seedlings!"

Confused, Legato scanned the ground. His golden eyes finally fell on a pile of discarded apple cores that Chapel the Evergreen had tossed out several weeks before. The seeds were sprouting in the damp weather, and the tomas thought they looked delicious. Sprinting forward, the psychic set to work with wire and cutters and soon had the growing apple trees surrounded by three circles of protection. "There, Master. That should hold them off. Master?"

The plant had disappeared under the swarm of hungry, angry tomas.

"Master Knives!" Seizing the broom Legato leapt into the fray, whacking the upstart beasts left and right. "You want some of this? Huh? You want some? Get out of here, stupid master tramplers!" His ferocity startled the tomas, who ran off through the rain. "Master? Are you alright?"

The bruised, trampled, and very muddy plant pulled his head out of the wet sand. "Shut up, Legato. Ah, my head!"

With a sympathetic noise the blue-haired man helped his blonde master to his feet. Physically cutting lose on the tomas had actually been quite exhilarating, and Legato wondered if just maybe he should give his psychic powers a rest and concentrate on causing destruction in other ways. As he was pondering this, a bright flash of light lit the surrounding area. It was followed shortly after by a loud, rumbling boom.

Knives winced. "Just perfect. More noise."

Suddenly Zazie, Dominique, E.G., Midvalley, and Rai Dei with the Kenshin plushie on his shoulders ran out of the house and began to run in circles around the plant and his minion, shrieking and laughing with a crazed light in their eyes. "Thunderstorm! Thunderstorm! We're gonna have a thunderstorm!"

Knives shot his minion a dumbfounded look, asking to be clued in. Legato shook his head. "I have no idea."

**O.O.O.O.O**

"Legato!" Knives moaned, tossing his head back against the arm of the sofa as thunder rattled the windows.

"Yes, Master?"

"Go get me some Aspirin! All this noise is killing my head!"

_Well maybe if you wouldn't scream all the time, your head would hurt less, _Legato thought reasonably. However, he obediently put down the feather duster and took off his apron. With a quick check on dinner, he ran upstairs to fetch Knives some painkillers. The sooner he did, the sooner he could return to his chores without being disturbed. And, if he didn't do the chores, who would? No one else in the base gave a damn whether or not they all lived in squalor.

"Let's see..." Legato opened the medicine cabinet, deftly avoiding the rain of bottles from the overcrowded shelves. He rummaged around, wondering if there was even any Aspirin to be had among everyone else's medication. Dominique's calcium tablets... Monev's Viagra... Wolfwood's Nicarette gum he had never bothered to use... where was all the normal medicine? The painkillers, the cough syrup, the band-aids? There had to be _something _in there he could give the master...

Just as Legato was about to admit defeat, Midvalley walked in with little Zazie over his shoulder. "Zazie, knock it off!" the musician snarled. Legato resisted the urge to ask if they had enjoyed themselves frolicking in the rain like idiots. "We go through this every day! You have to take them!"

"No!" the Beast shrieked, biting Midvalley's arm. "It's nasty! I don't want it! Put me down!"

Legato cocked a quizzical eyebrow.

Midvalley sighed, fisting a hand none too gently in the little boy's blonde hair. "It's time for his de-wormer. Gimme that bottle there, will you? With the veterinary symbol on the label. Ouch! You little shit, bite me one more time and I'll feed you to your own sand worms, I swear to God! Be still!"

"Nooo!" Zazie howled, kicking and punching. "I want my gummies!"

"My God, Zazie, let's put this in perspective! You're a damn parasite farm! The bugs in you probably have their own _zip code_ by now! De-wormer first, vitamins later. Now open up." Between the two of them, Midvalley and Legato managed to force the pill down the child's throat. Upon being released, Zazie snatched the bottle of Spiderman gummy vitamins off the counter and fled with them down the hall, screaming ferocious curses and revenge threats upon his tormenters.

"Zazie, no!" Midvalley yelled, running after him. "You can only have two a day!"

Legato sighed. He had never seen a child so eager to take his vitamins. Maybe they gave him a buzz. He placed the bottle back on the shelf, wondering if Midvalley would be victorious. Zazie was the main reason the rest of the Gung-Ho Guns needed medication in the first place. They had considered getting him stuffed in order to have the cute without the unpleasant side effects, but his skills in sand worm wrangling were just too good to give up. Thus, no matter how annoying, they were stuck with the murderous little brat.

"Hello, Legato!" E.G. yelled, making the pondering psychic jump. "What's up?"

"Oh, hello, E.G.. Just looking for some Aspirin for Master Knives."

"Aspirin? There aren't any. Dominique took the last two yesterday because she had 'cramps that would floor a charging sand worm.'"

Legato shuddered slightly at the influx of way too much information. "That isn't good. Do we have any other pain relievers? The Master has a headache."

E.G. raised an eyebrow. "A headache? What, were you a little too _rough_ with the master this afternoon, 'favorite minion'?"

Legato's eyes narrowed. "And just what, pray tell, are you insinuating?"

Before E.G. could answer, or even begin to consider just how bad an idea it was to make crude jokes at the psychic's expense, he somehow found himself, without conscious control of his own body, in front of the toilet. A second later his arm lifted itself and began slamming an important part of his anatomy in the lid.

Ignoring the screaming Mine, Legato went back to the cabinet. If they had no Aspirin, perhaps there was some Advil or Tylenol in there somewhere. After a moment, he found some loose pills rattling in the very back. They looked quite Tylenol-esque.

Finally releasing the hysterical Mine, Legato headed back to the living room. A few minutes later E.G. too crawled out, slamming the door behind him, and so did not bear witness to a bottle of Hoppard's "happy meds" falling out of the cabinet, dumping a quantity of remarkably Tylenol-like pills down the sink.

**O.O.O.O.O**

Later that evening, Legato retired early to his "chamber," the better to read some of his recently unearthed manga. Leaving the window open to a refreshingly cool breeze and the occasional flash of lightning, he settled back with a volume to read.

Seconds later, someone knocked at the door.

Irked, Legato lowered his book. "What do you want?"

No answer, but more knocking.

"Zazie, go away. I have not seen your sand worm plushie. Go ask Midvalley."

The knocking continued unabated. Still no answer from without.

"Damn." Legato set down his manga and stalked to the door, ready to send the little poncho boy on a one way trip down the stairs via the Telekinesis Express. "Zazie, how many times must I tell you to –" He jerked open the door.

"Hey, Legato."

Legato's mouth fell open as he stared, bewildered, at the visitor. "Master Knives?"

The plant nodded, holding up a case of root beer and a bowl of cheesy snack crackers. "Yes. I brought snacks." Without waiting for a response from his minion he pushed past Legato and into the room.

"Master?" Legato still could not seem to wrap his mind around the visit. "I thought you had already retired to your room...?"

"I did. I couldn't sleep for the thunder and got bored."

"But... aren't you tired, Master?"

"No, not especially. Besides, the thunder is actually quite invigorating, don't you think? In fact, I don't think I've ever felt more awake." Dropping the refreshments, Knives plopped down in the middle of the floor. "I thought perhaps we might hang out, have some snacks, swap manly stories, that sort of thing. What do you say, Legato?"

The psychic stared at his suddenly insane master. Dear Wolfwood's God, what could possibly be the matter with him? "Um... of course, Master. Whatever you wish."

"Excellent. Have a Cheezit?"

"Oh, thank you." Warily munching his cracker, Legato resumed his seat. "Are you feeling alright this evening, Master?"

"Of course I am. Why do you ask?"

"Well, it's just that... how shall I put this...? You just do not seem like your usual haughty, overbearing, I'm-better-than-you-humans self tonight."

Knives pondered a moment. "Well, earlier I had that headache, but as soon as I took those pills it went away. Now I feel fine. A bit on edge, but fine nonetheless. Would you care to play some cards?"

"Certainly, Master. However it might be difficult to achieve a winning strategy if we can both read each others' minds."

Knives frowned. "Ah. So we can. Then what would you suggest?"

Legato was at a bit of a loss. He had never been big on social skills. "I am not sure, Master. What do men usually do when they 'hang out'?"

"Other than eat and watch televised sports..." Knives thought hard. What else was there to do? "I seem to remember that spider-males enjoy drooling over magazines that contain indecent photographs of spider-females, and then proceed to brag about all they themselves have seen and done."

Legato blinked. "Ah."

Knives stared back. "On that note, anything to share?"

"Um... once, I walked in on Dominique while she was changing and she threw her jewelry box at my head." Probably not what was usually talked about under such circumstances, but it was all Legato had at the moment. "And yourself, Master?"

Knives waved a hand dismissively. "Spider-women are beneath me."

"Oh. Of course, Master." There was a long pause. "So. Perhaps we should go out and seek something to entertain us, Master? Surely there must be something we can do?"

"Good idea, Legato. Let's go."

**O.O.O.O.O**

As the two walked down the halls on their search for entertainment, there could be heard the sounds of various Gung-Ho Guns engaged in various evening activities.

Dominique was humming along to a Britney Spears CD, which could be heard even from behind her closed door. Midvalley, whose room was next to hers, was loudly playing his sax in an effort to drown out the CD. This only prompted the Cyclops to turn up the volume.

Chapel the Evergreen, whose turn it was to give Zazie his bath, could be heard screaming "_The power of Christ compels you!_" as he repeatedly dunked the shrieking demon child into the tub. Zazie's bloodcurdling screams drowned out all other noises for a long while.

"My goodness," Knives remarked casually, "everyone seems so busy tonight."

"Oh, it is like this every night, Master. Believe me."

"Is it?" Knives appeared surprised. "I suppose I really must miss a lot when I stay in my room all the time..."

"Possibly, Master. It seems that you entirely missed the invasion of sand crickets that Zazie unleashed on us two weeks ago..."

"Sand crickets? You must be joking."

"No, Master. The base was full of them for days."

"Legato, those insects are like to footballs with six legs and antennae. How did I miss something like that?"

"I'm not quite sure, Master. One jumped onto the table in the middle of dinner one evening and you didn't bat an eye. They got into the walls and under the floorboards. The chirruping was enough to drive one mad."

"How did you get rid of them?"

"I finally had to take over their minds and convince them that insecticide is a delicacy. They ate three packages of poison before I directed them outside to die."

Knives fought a smile. How like his minion, to kill the bugs where just herding them outside would suffice. He knew he liked Legato for something other than the cooking and cleaning. As it was, the psychic was the only thing that stood between the plant and starvation. After all, what evil genius and would-be world conqueror cooked his own meals? That and Legato was still the only one on base who knew where the paper towels were kept...

Lost in thought, they were in the kitchen before Knives knew it. Hmm. The kitchen was sure to have something that would entertain him. Poking in the drawers and cabinets, Knives looked things over. Maybe a snack would help settle him down.

"Master Knives? I just remembered that my door is not locked. I must lock it in order to keep Zazie out of my things. I shall return shortly, with your permission...?"

"Sure Legato," Knives muttered absently, pulling a box of pizza bagel bites out of the freezer. Just the thing. The psychic disappeared up the stairs as Knives flipped on the oven, humming a song by Queen.

**O.O.O.O.O**

It took loner than expected for Legato to return to the kitchen. He had arrived at his room to discover that one of the tiny imps that inhabited Grey the Ninelives had escaped and was going through his sock drawer. It took him almost ten minutes to catch the thing and return it to the robot, and in that time it had succeeded in devouring his entire stash of Slim Jims that had been hidden in said sock drawer. After bandaging his bitten hand, he went back to the kitchen to check on the master.

"Legato, there you are," Knives said brightly as Legato staggered in. "Took you long enough. That aside, care for a bagel bite? It's pepperoni."

"Of course, Master, I would love a—MASTER KNIVES, WHAT DID YOU DO TO YOUR HAIR?!"

"Oh, do you like it?" Knives asked conversationally, plucking bagels off the baking sheet with a spatula and putting them on a small decorative serving plate. "I decided it was time for a change, and it just came to me."

Legato stared in absolute shock. His master had boiled up a batch of Kool-Aid and dyed his hair blue. The psychic felt positively faint. "But... Master... why?"

"Oh, I don't know. It looks rather fetching though, doesn't it?" Knives ran a hand through his still-damp hand, studying his reflection in the mirror over the sink. "Almost the same shade as yours, as a matter of fact. It's almost as if we're brothers, isn't it? Funny, that."

Legato gulped nervously, looking down at his left arm. He wasn't sure he really wanted to be related to the Master. "Er... Master, I'm not sure what to say... other than you are acting extremely odd tonight."

Seeming not to hear him, Knives offered the plate. "Come on now, eat up. There are thirty of these things here and I don't want to eat them all myself. Oh, wait! Watch this." Using his own psychic powers, Knives plucked one bagel from the plate and, flipping it upside down, sent it spinning around the room. "It's a UFO."

Legato watched it, half wary and half amused, until the little circle of cheese and pepperoni cubes fell off the bottom of the bread and landed in his hair. "Master! It hit me!"

The former blonde laughed insanely. "What's the matter, Legato? Why didn't you catch it? Are you losing your touch? That's alright, here's another! Try again!"

"No, Master, stop! Please don't throw it at me... ack, no! I'm wearing _white_!" However, soon Legato was forced to fight back. Throwing off his white coat to avoid stains, he used his own powers to throw the thrown bagels back at the plant. Knives retaliated, and in a matter of minutes the kitchen was covered in a thick layer of cheesy tomato goop. It took them a moment to stop laughing, catch their breath, and take stock of the mess they had made.

Knives paused, looking about him at the dripping kitchen. He was himself, as was Legato, covered from head to toe in pizza toppings. "Uh-oh. Look at what you did, Legato."

The sudden and severe fear of the Master's ire flew through the psychic. "But Master, it was _you_ who in fact instigated the..."

"You joined in."

"But, Master, you _began _the..."

"You helped me do it."

Legato was close to panic. His kitchen was a wreck. Between cleaning it up himself, insisting that the master clean up his own mess, or forcing the other Gung-Ho Guns to clean it up for them... He suddenly calmed. Of course. Forced labor. The answer to everything. "I can force the Mine to clean it up tomorrow. He has incurred my annoyance. Shall we proceed to the living room?"

Knives agreed and they left the decimated kitchen behind to seek entertainment in the front room of the base. The plant, still hungry, quickly taught himself how to use the popcorn maker. "I didn't know we had one of these. Spiffy."

Legato, pulling off his ruined clothes, paused with his shirt half over his head. "Master, did you just use the word spiffy?"

"No."

"Oh. Alright, then..."

Knives, clutching a large bowl of popcorn, likewise shucked his dirty clothing and took a spot on the sofa in his boxers (which happened to be patterned in moths, the butterfly's nighttime relative). "Maybe something good is on spider-TV." Flipping channels, he took stock of the selections. "Seen it... seen it... stupid... seen it... seen it... seen it... don't want to see it... infomercial... rerun... No, there's nothing on."

"If I may, Master...?" Taking the remote at a nod from the plant, Legato turned to the channel that had never let him down... the Food Network. As he had hoped, Emeril was kicking it up a notch by dumping some sort of hard liquor on the sizzling carcass of a game fowl.

"Mmm, chicken," Knives commented.

Five minutes later, they turned off the program. Legato wiped the drool from his chin. "Somehow... I just don't think this is the right time for Emeril."

"We need to get our minds off food," Knives decided decisively. "Are there any board games or anything that we could play? What about Battleship?"

"Zazie ate all the ships and half the markers."

"How about checkers?"

"Zazie stopped up the toilet with the chips."

Knives was getting upset. "Chess? Tell me we can play chess."

"Zazie..."

Disgusted, Knives waved it off. "Remind me to fire that child. So, in this unfortunate event, what shall we do? Hmm... We could... steal Midvalley's Playboy DVD's."

"Master!" Legato gasped.

"What?"

"Surely you aren't serious!"

"Of course I am. They're in a box under his bed. Let's go."

"But Master, I thought you said that spider-women were beneath you."

Knives gave Legato an odd look. "They are. That is why I am watching them and they are not watching me. Now, onward!"

"But Master!" Legato whimpered. "Is it really a good idea to invade Midvalley's private space and take his personal belongings? We do have a bond, after all, from living together and sharing a common goal. Is it really right to do that to a fellow... uh, a fellow..."

"Freak of nature?" Knives supplied.

"Something like that."

"There is one very good reason why we can and should do this, Legato. It is that I am the boss, and I can do whatever the hell I want." Knives' eyes narrowed. "What's the matter, Legato? Are you going soft on me?"

The psychic blanched. "Of course not, Master!"

"I think you are! I think you're going soft! Come on, let's go, spider-human! Put 'em up!" Legato barely had time to think before Knives was on him, throwing them both backwards across the sofa and holding his neck in a full Nelson. He tried halfheartedly to struggle, but knew it was a lost cause as Knives began to rub his knuckles hard in Legato's blue hair in a very painful way. "Big bad psychic doesn't know how to fight like a man! Come on, Legato, _Vash _can fight better than this!"

"Master, please control yourself!"

At that moment, little Zazie walked into the room. He had been searching for the bottle of gummy vitamins that Midvalley had hidden from him earlier that evening. What he found, however, delighted him to the very core of his demonic little soul. It was the Master Knives and Legato "I'm-Too-Good-For-You" Bluesummers sprawled on the sofa in their boxer shorts. Knives had his arms wrapped around the psychic and their legs tangled in an intricate and painful way. The expression on Legato's face could be compared to that of a corpse that had been murdered in a nasty fashion.

Doing an about face, the little blonde Beast ran off into the base to spread the word.

"This isn't what it looks like!" Legato shrieked, kicking Knives off on reflex. The plant hit the ground hard on his rear, giving Legato a miffed look and rubbing the sore area. The psychic immediately froze. _Oh shit. I physically hurt the Master! Oh SHIT!_

Knives suddenly grinned, getting to his feet. "Yeah, now that's more like it! You're getting it, Legato, you're getting it. Now let's go get those DVD's!"

"Master..." Legato whimpered weakly. The force of his relief left him nearly faint. He was sure the Master would kill him outright, and painfully, for such a large and blatant transgression.

"Don't worry about it, Legato," Knives consoled, misreading the cause of the psychic's distress. "Midvalley's already asleep. This will be a piece of cake." Grabbing his minion by the arm, he pulled Legato toward the stairs. Hoping it was cheesecake, Legato whimpered softly in a continuous and disbelieving stream as he followed along quite unwillingly.

"This is just like old times," Knives reminisced with a slight smile. "Vash and I used to do things like this all the time. Yes, we'd stay up for hours on end trying to hack past the parental controls Rem put on the TV and computer. The computer was impossible, but our combined genius managed to get most of the static off the television. Those were the days..."

Lost in fond memories, Knives shoved open the sax player's door and stole softly into the blackness, insecure psychic in tow.

**O.O.O.O.O**

"_Get out of here!_"

Knives and Legato scrambled frantically out the door, trying to avoid Midvalley's enraged kicks.

"Stay the hell out of my stuff, you hear me?!"

Knives paused at the top of the stairs. "Wow. I never would have labeled Middy as the 'reads dirty magazines under the covers with a flashlight' type."

Legato was about to agree when a saxophone case came flying out of the musician's room and smoked the psychic in the head. Knives peered over the rail to watch his favorite minion and said instrument case go tumbling down the stairs.

The rumpled Hornfreak stormed out of his violated room. "If I ever catch anyone in there again I swear by Sylvia's shiny brass finish that I'll bury the jerk! Even if it's _you_, Legato!" He shook his fist over the rail at the dazed minion.

Legato recovered quickly, though. "Oh yeah?" he yelled, grabbing up the case. "Well _you_ can't read music!" With that one powerful and nearly blasphemous insult the blue-haired psychic hurled the case back up at the dumbfounded musician and ran away as fast as he could, Knives right behind, to avoid the following supersonic blast. It was best not to openly combat the Hornfreak, not at night, inside the base, unrested.

Midvalley never would have found the two of them, hidden away as they were in an out of the way closet, had Knives not turned on the singing largemouth bass.

**O.O.O.O.O**

Legato was not pleased as limped back up the stairs toward his chamber, Knives following once more.

Midvalley had not been stupid enough to take aim at the plant and had concentrated on making Legato sorry for the DVD incident, despite the psychic's yells and curses that the scheme had not been his doing whatsoever. Finally he had been forced to fight back, telekinetically slamming the saxophone down over the irate musician's head. Knives had a strident rule about not killing other Gung-Ho Guns without his permission, and he might remember that when he woke up from whatever madness had currently possessed him.

For insane he still was, to the best of Legato's knowledge. As they entered the psychic's room for the second time that night the plant began to hum "Don't worry... dun, dun... be happy... dun, dun..." under his breath. Legato was scared. At least, he was scared until he flipped on the light and saw Zazie perched expectantly on the bed.

Legato felt an immediate and intense pang of annoyance. "What are you doing in here?" he demanded of the little boy. Zazie just grinned.

"I told everybody what you guys were doing."

"Is that so." With an irritated growl, he made the child hop around the room in a convincing monkey imitation. "In that case I do hope you enjoyed yourself, because I simply do not care what the others may think. Satisfied?"

"No." Zazie reached behind his poncho-ed back, playing with something. "After that I got bored, so I decided to do something I never done before. Knives was out of his room for the first time in forever so..."

Legato paled. "You entered the Master's chamber without his permission?"

"Yup. And I found a toy, too!" Whipping out a battered and much-loved plush butterfly from behind himself, Zazie lifted it up. "Cool, huh? It would make a great kill for my sand worm plushie, huh? Wouldn't it?"

"You would not dare."

Knives' icy tone caused the hair on the back of Legato's neck to stand upright. Uh-oh. That was the normal Knives talking, alright. No more Mister Nice Plant.

Zazie grinned. Holding the sand worm toy in one hand, he placed Knives' butterfly firmly between his teeth. The fires of homicide burning in his eyes, Knives' angel arms began to deploy.

Legato was torn. Not the angel arms! Not in his room! Oh, but Zazie would finally die! Oh, but he would also die as well. That settled that. "Master, don't you think we could settle this without utilizing the massive destructive forces that are your quite wonderful and impressive arms...?"

Knives paused.

With a maniacal grin, Zazie ripped the butterfly in half. Stuffing flew.

With a howl of unsurpassed rage, Knives deployed the arms.

Legato ducked and covered as the blast ripped the ceiling asunder. A hot wind blew. Furniture, clothes, manga and various other personal articles went flying. Zazie dove aside, managing to wedge underneath the psychic's bed. Or what was soon left of it.

After long, horrifying moments, it was over. Zazie poked his head out from under the charred and blackened remnants of the bed and, seeing the coast as clear as it was likely to get, ran for the hills.

Legato lay on the scorched ground, face buried in the singed carpet of what once had been his bedroom. His ears were ringing. Peering cautiously upwards, he noticed wetness striking his face. The ceiling was entirely nonexistent, and the rain was pouring in. Lightning flared. Thunder boomed.

Knives suddenly appeared in his field of vision. The frantic plant unceremoniously shoved the two halves of the unfortunate butterfly in the psychic's face. "Fix it! Fix it now! _Now, now, now, now, NOW!_ "

Legato sighed, letting his head fall back once again. Absently, he was thankful for the cold rain washing the soot off his face.

Once upon a time in a small café he had given advice of sorts to an unfortunate woman. Now, lying in the wreckage of his own room, his lord and master weeping like a disconsolate child above him, his own words came back to haunt him.

Now he himself knew, without a doubt, the pain of living.

--owari

**o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o.o**

**(2****nd****) Author's Note: **Once again, I apologize. It was a little more wacky than the first one, too, but I still find myself compelled to compel the Gung-Ho Guns and dear, dear Knives to loosen it up a bit. A big thanks to igbogal for reminding me of the cafe scene at the end. Thanks for reading!


End file.
